Why is it that nowadays every single thing you buy on the web saddles you with a fucking weekly email newsletter? I get thousands. They lurk in my inbox disguised as something interesting and exciting from someone I like, until I read the subject line and my heart sinks.
People who send me newsletters: How can I phrase this?
I am soooo not interested. Do I look interested? Does any part of my face look interested?
Companies think that the hallowed e-shot sends out a message to their punters that they are valued customers. ‘We care, as a company, for your needs’ they think it says. ‘We want to build a relationship with you. You are amazing. Here, had, you considered this blue scarf? It’ll look great with your eyes. Ooh, I see you like leather horse whips… would you be interested in buying this lubricant and bridle as an accompaniment? 20% off!’
Really, the message these e-shots send out is ‘MWAAHAHAHAHAHA! You have bought from us. Now you shall never escape our tyranny. You shall never forget us. Forget the others. They are the evil ones. We will remind you of our existence every week on a Thursday, for all eternity (or until you find the ‘unsubscribe’ link we have sneakily concealed amongst the other detritus in our footer.) We will follow you to the ends of the earth in a desperate stalker kind of way just in case you need curtain hooks. We must tend to your curtain hook purchasing needs!! ’
I fucking hate them. And here I come to my point. I used to design, write and send e-shots for a living. I used to spend hours poring over the figures, trying to work out why more people weren’t opening them. Why our instant delete rate was so high. And deep in my brain I knew the truth to be that e-shots are just plain annoying. You didn’t need stats to tell you that. Most people, including myself, are not interested in them – on the contrary in fact, view them as a curse, a nuisance, a blight on their very existence. Go away Marks and Spencers. I will tell you when I want new pants. Not the other way around!
I thank my lucky stars that I no longer have to sit in an office pretending that I care deeply about doing something I knew at the bottom of my heart was utterly futile. I mean, my job now is equally as futile, but no one is debating that. And I get to see the top of the world every day.
Kids, find a job you believe in, if you possibly can. It eases the sting.
Anyhoodle, I thought I’d take this opportunity to write some of my own messages to the pesky botherers that litter my inbox:
Easy Jet: Sending me emails about flights will not make me go on holiday more. I can’t afford holidays. I will tell you when I want a flight. By the way you are thieving crooks.
Tesco and Sainsbury’s: When I need food I’ll buy food from whichever one of you is nearest my house. Carrots is carrots.
Healthspan: OK! I bought some St John’s Wort once because I was having a low. Can you stop reminding me? That is SO insensitive.
Luxury Hair Care: I know when I need shampoo. Don’t call me, I’ll call you.
ASOS and Topshop: Please stop tempting me you bastards. I can’t afford it. You have no souls and no shame.
Curtains Direct: Yes. I bought some curtain hooks five years ago and returned them because they were the wrong shape. Get over it. Losers.
Apollo Premium Sex Toys: I have no need of a butt plug right at this moment. But I have your number.
Hitched.com: I am not getting married any more. Thank dear-non-existent-God. The idea of marriage fills me with horror and nausea. I gave the ring back. It was a lucky escape. And the fact that I was using a wedding planning website to co-ordinate the big day speaks volumes about my tormented and misguided state of mind at the time. Please go away.
O2 : Sod off. Please just sod off.
Ahhhh. That was cathartic.